


Starlight Skin

by WhimperSoldier



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, They are all old, and love each other, but need to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimperSoldier/pseuds/WhimperSoldier
Summary: “Things have changed since I first married you,” Damen sat him down, wrapping his thick arms around Laurent’s trim waist to stop him from shifting away from his frowning reflection. “Sure, your hair has lightened to a shining starlight, and perhaps your skin has thinned to a beautiful cream, so what causes you such thoughts?”“Damen, I am aging into an old man, whether you notice it or not,” Laurent huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Damen through the mirror. “Everything that you loved about me when we were young has faded, of that you can't deny.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I kept waiting to see a story like this but no one wrote it so this is on you.

Laurent ran the fine-toothed brush through his hair, the wind catching the strands and making his job difficult. He huffed, standing and throwing the curtains shut before returning to the vanity.

Damen, asleep on the bed, rolled around to face the now shut window. Laurent sighed, moved to his side of the bed, and placed a delicate kiss on Damen’s brow, smoothed in sleep. As he made to rise, the glint of hair caught his eye, a single strand threaded between the fabric.

He raised it too his face, the color too light for Damen, and felt sick.

It was gray, a sickly old color. He tossed it on the floor and stood up quickly, jostling the bed enough that Damen snuffled and pawed at his eyes. Laurent couldn't meet his gaze and instead marched back to his vanity, resolutely brushing without looking at a single strand.

“Lover?” Damen called, his voice a heady thick slur this early. Laurent felt his heart quicken, even after all these years. “Why do you go so far?”

Laurent just huffed, shuffling through the large amount of creams that sat in a tidy line along the wooden frame of his mirror. He hadn't noticed how many he’d accumulated until then.

“Laurent?”

“What?” He replied, dabbing the creams onto the soft skin of his wrists and neck. He wondered if his hair covered the slight sagging of the once taut skin of his neck. Did Damen see the wrinkles around his eyes every time he smiled? Laurent wondered if Pascel’s assistant might have a cream for that as well.

Laurent jumped when heavy palms pressed softly into his shoulders. He leaned back instinctively, curling into the sleepy warmth of his husband of twenty years.

He felt old, years as a ruler could do that to a person, but never before had Laurent felt that he looked it too.

He went about his day in a haze. Damen knew something was wrong, but also knew if it was anything too harsh, Laurent would explain. He was thankful for the space to think, to work through his emotions over a hair on a pillow.

That night they sat in their study at the large mahogany desks brought from Vere by Damen for Laurent’s thirtieth birthday. Laurent remembered them christening the desks latter that night.

That thought rattled around in his head until he froze.

He couldn't remember the last time they had been intimate. He could clearly remember bending Damen over the settee in their bedroom but that had been weeks ago. 

Laurent looked up and stared at Damen. Age had been kind to him, softening him in the most beautiful ways. He’d greyed slightly, a splash at each temple that made him only look more kingly and warm. His cheeks had lines, crescent marks around his lips worn into his skin from years of laughter. Their twins were at the corner of his eyes and were deep grooves when he scrunched his nose up. The beard he was determined to have was threaded with salt colored strands. Laurent’s favorite part though was his stomach.

Age meant less training and a time at peace meant more so. He was still solid, built strong and just as fierce with a sword as in his prime, but he had softened slightly around his stomach, the once defined muscles covered in a soft layer of fat born of wine and feasting. Damen took the change in stride, taking the ribbing from his men and throwing it back tenfold when he bested them in the ring. Everything about Damen screamed of a life of joy, warmth, and love.

The only thing that Laurent couldn’t stand to look at was the scars. 

His back tugged at him sometimes, Damen would grunt and rub at his shoulder as if to lessen the strain. It was the only thing they still fought about, small spats when each had been worked to exhaustion and were too tired to hold their tongues. 

Laurent looked from his husband back down to the letter that sat unreplied. His daughter wrote from the Patras Steppe and he couldn't muster the energy to write her back. He sighed, plucking the wire frames from his nose.

“Laurent?” Damen sighed, torn and tired. His voice was so soft.

“Do I-” Laurent stopped himself when a servant entered with goblets of wine and water. She froze, her bright green eyes widening when she realized she had interrupted something between her kings.

Damen ignored her, eyes stuck on Laurent, but Laurent was watching the woman. She was pretty, he assumed, wide hips and a sweet jaw with hair like a bramble bush that look endearing rather than unkempt. The type of woman any king would take to bed-

Laurent laughed slightly, rubbing at the divots his glasses had made along the arch of his nose. 

Damen tried to talk, once in their private bath and once again when they were tucked into bed. Laurent felt the weight of a kingdom slip from his shoulders between those sheets.

“Please, my love, tell me what is wrong,” Damen pleaded, running a gentle hand through Laurent’s hair.

“I am getting old,” Laurent sighed. Damen stilled and then used his broad palms to tilt Laurent’s face up to meet his.

“Please tell me that is not all that is troubling you?” Damen caught the tightening of his lips and then laughed lightly, kissing his jaw and down to his neck. “Ageing is not something you can outwit, no matter how many ways you try.”

“What will you do when I'm hideous, Damen, find the next sharp blond to fill your bed?” Laurent huffed, half teasing, half bitter. Even years couldn't dull his uncertainty, only the frequency in which it appeared.

“I could never find you hideous,” Damen huffed, burying himself into Laurent’s thin chest. Laurent instinctually grabbed at his thick curls, running a hand through the tangles. “But I do not think that is what is bothering you.”

“Clever brute,” Laurent chided, enjoying the way Damen’s laugh rattled his chest. “I just...worry.”

“You could dye your skin blue and grow tusks and a tail and I would proclaim to the world you’re the most lovely creature I have ever seen,” Damen murmured into his nightshirt and Laurent couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up from his stomach. It was no wonder he had wrinkles around his mouth. “And when I go bald and senile, will you still care for me, when I really am little more than a brute?”

“Please,” Laurent scoffed, carding his fingers through curls. “As if you will go bald.” As if to prove his point his gave the stands a tug.

Damen laughed, a hearty sound that bubbled up from his stomach. He sighed, as if preparing for something, before sitting up and dragging Laurent bodily with him.

He yelped, wrapping his thin arms around his husband and clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. Damen stilled before Laurent’s full length mirror. Laurent wondered if Damen was feeling aroused considering the last time they both stood before the glass, Laurent was pressed against it.

“Things have changed since I first married you,” Damen sat him down, wrapping his thick arms around Laurent’s trim waist to stop him from shifting away from his frowning reflection. “Sure, your hair has lightened to a shining starlight, and perhaps your skin has thinned to a beautiful cream, so what causes you such thoughts?”

“Damen, I am aging into an old man, whether you notice it or not,” Laurent huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Damen through the mirror. “Everything that you loved about me when we were young has faded, of that you can't deny.”

“Of course,” Damen said, kissing a line down his shoulder. Laurent scoffed and looked back at him, a delicate eyebrow raised up in question. “Everyone changes, grows, you for all of your exceptional wit and charm, are no different,” He smiled and kissed Laurent on the lips. “I'm not the same man you fell in love with,”

“I don't follow,” Laurent said, deathly quiet. Damen just chuckled, hiding his face in the folds of Laurent’s shirt.

“Falling in love is easy, I've done it many times,” Damen went quiet and made sure to meet Laurent’s eyes as he continued. “But to stay in love, that was the hardest thing I've ever done.” Another gut-clenching smile. “I've been falling in love with you again and again for years. New parts you show and old parts you change.”

“Why are you like this,” Laurent hissed, smacking at Damen’s arms which had gently began to move their bodies in a slow rock. Damen had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply into Laurent’s neck. “Even after so long, I find myself outsmarted by your midnight rambles.”

“Would you once again like to be outwitted, because I have a very difficult riddle,” Damen muttered. Laurent scoffed again and nodded, giving into the soft swaying of their bodies. “What about you has never changed?”

“My wit?” Laurent guessed but moved on when his husband shook his head. “My sparkling personality?” Another shake. “My ass?”

“Don't be vulgar,” Damen chided, laving attention to the line where Laurent’s throat met his shoulders. “Can you really think of nothing, I see it in the mirror right now.”

Laurent looked at the glass but saw only their reflections. “If you say your love for me, I will divorce you, our countries be damned.”

“Your eyes!” Damen laughed, nibbling at his chin in faux anger. “They have remained as lovely as the day we joined together as one.”

“You are a sentimental fool,” Laurent sighed softly, relaxing into the warm embrace of his husband and lacing their fingers together where they were resting on his stomach.

He smiled at his reflection and watched the corner of his eyes crinkle up in happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @ whimper-soldier


End file.
